Bloodlines Page 0,119

out of Clarence's. The next semester probably started in January, so Adrian was facing four more months at Clarence's. Adrian would also be facing four more months of bus-riding and taking classes without college credit.

But were the credits and financial aid really the most important things here? I thought back to how excited Adrian had been after only a couple classes, how he'd thrown himself into the art. His face had been radiant when he stood in his "gallery." Jill's words also echoed through my mind, about how the art had given him something to channel his feelings into and made the bond easier for her to cope with. Those classes were good for both of them.

How much was an auditing fee? I wasn't sure but knew it wasn't as much as tuition. It was also a onetime cost that I could probably slide into my expenses without raising the attention of the Alchemists. Adrian needed those classes, of that I was certain. If he knew financial aid wasn't an option this semester, there was a good chance he'd just drop them altogether. I couldn't allow that. He'd known there might be "a delay" while the financial aid came together. If I could keep him going to Carlton a little longer, then maybe he'd get invested enough in the art that he'd stay on, even when the truth came out. It was a sneaky thing to do, but it would benefit him - and Jill - in the end.

I dialed back Wes Regan's office, knowing I'd get his voice mail. I left him a message saying that I'd drop off a check for the auditing fee and that Adrian would stay on until he could be enrolled next semester. I hung up, saying a silent prayer that it would take a while for Adrian to find out any of this. The waitress kept giving me the evil eye over just having coffee, so I finally ordered a piece of pie to go. She had just set the carton down on my table when an irritated Keith entered the restaurant. He stood in the doorway, looking around impatiently until he saw me.

"Okay, what's going on?" he demanded, making a big show of sitting down. "What's so important that you felt the need to break school rules and drag me halfway across town?"

For a moment, I froze up. Looking into Keith's eyes - real and artificial - triggered all the conflicting feelings I'd had about him this last year. Fear and anxiety over what I was trying to pull off warred with the deep hate I'd long carried. Baser instincts wanted me to make him suffer, to throw something at him. Like the pie. Or a chair. Or a baseball bat.

"I - "

Before I could say another word, my phone chimed. I looked down and read a text message from Adrian: GOT IT. CALL MADE. ONE HOUR.

I slipped the phone into my purse and exhaled. It had taken Keith twenty minutes to get here, and during that time, Adrian had been dutifully searching the apartment. He'd apparently been successful. Now it was up to me to delay Keith until reinforcements showed up. One hour was actually a lot less time than I'd expected. I'd given Adrian Stanton's phone number, and she would've dispatched whatever Alchemists were closest. I'd figured that would mean Los Angeles, but it was hard to say with the scope of our jobs. If there were Alchemists on the east side of the city, they'd get here very quickly. It was also possible they could cut time by simply flying a private jet in.

"What's that?" asked Keith irritably. "A text from one of your vampire friends?"

"You can stop the act," I said. "I know you don't really care about me 'getting too close' to them." I hadn't intended this to be the topic that distracted him, but I'd take it.

"Of course I do. I worry about your soul."

"Is that why you called my dad?" I asked. "Is that the reason you wanted me out of Palm Springs?"

"It's for your own good," he said, putting on that holier-than-thou air. "Do you know how wrong it was that you even wanted this job in the first place? No Alchemist would. But you, you practically begged for it."

"Yeah," I said, feeling my anger rise. "So Zoe wouldn't have to do it."

"Tell yourself that if you want. I know the truth. You like these creatures."

"Why does it have to be so cut-and-dried? In